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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789720">Wolf Witchers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse'>tomanonuniverse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen, Geralt Fluff Week (The Witcher), Geralt Fluff Week 2020, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Loss, Pack Cuddles, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), kind of lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:54:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt Fluff Week 2020 Day Two: Kaer Morhen/Wolf Witchers</p><p>If anyone notices Lambert scooting closer to him and bumping their knees together, they don’t mention it. Geralt’s hand restlessly flexes over and over, because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s here and Remus isn’t, but it’s only because of the autopsy that Geralt was able to identify the correct creature and survive at all. He owed the deceased witcher his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wolf Witchers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>THE RULES SAID HURT/COMFORT WAS ALLOWED DONT @ ME</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Despite how often it happened, Geralt found that the loss of yet another Wolf witcher was never easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus was one of the cockiest whoresons the White Wolf ever knew. He spoke as if he genuinely believed he could take on the world and it truly made Geralt believe he could, too. Seeing his corpse in Wyzima was jarring. He felt it make him falter in his step, but he wasn’t alone at the time and had to keep his act cool with Triss watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his journey back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, he had plenty of time to himself, and so he grieved. He obviously couldn’t have taken the witcher’s corpse with him all the way to the keep, so he only took his medallion, and occasionally spoke to it during the night like a lunatic. Then again, he speaks to Roach, so he was fairly sure he wasn’t losing his marbles just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even when he was eager to return home, his luck remains the shittiest on the continent and he just barely makes it before the snow fully settles and makes the trails untravelable. Eskel is the one who opens the gates for him and his gentle grin is too contagious for Geralt not to smile at. “There you are, White Wolf,” he greets, pulling him into an embrace and holding him close. “Thought you wouldn’t make it this year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words make him flinch and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Eskel pulls back but keeps his hands on Geralt’s shoulders, brows furrowed in concern. Geralt sighs and brings the extra Wolf medallion on his person, revealing it in the palm of his hand. Eskel’s face pinches for a moment at the sight then resigns in understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Lambert calls as he approaches, Leo hot on his heels. They each greet him before their eyes fall on the medallion in his hands. Leo grimaces and looks away while Lambert curses. “Oh…</span>
  <em>
    <span> Dammit,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the younger witcher hisses, clenching his hands into fists compose himself before he speaks again. “Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt exhales in defeat. “Remus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leo’s eyes widen as he gasps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Remus?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He parrots in disbelief, his voice wavering slightly. The other witchers glance at each other, fully understanding the youngest’s surprise. The man had seemed so invincible with his constant boasting. The only comfort that brought Geralt was that it wasn’t his downfall; he had simply been underprepared because of the misguided miner’s assumptions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it this has something to do with why the entirety of Temeria is hailing you as King Foltest’s daughter’s savior?” Vesemir’s voice cuts through from behind them, making them all turn to look at him. Geralt swallows thickly and nods. The eldest witcher sighs and gestures for them all to follow him into their fortress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silent for a moment, since they only start their storytelling in the mess hall, before Geralt’s brow furrows as he notices the prominent lack of yet another member of their already small wolf pack. “Where’s Berengar?” He asks weakly, already dreading the answer to his question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eskel settles a hand on his shoulder to calm him and shakes his head. “He sent word ahead that he won’t be able to make the trip here this year,” he reassures him, watching his shoulders droop in relief. They all take their respective seats on one of the dining tables in the mess hall as Leo serves them whatever stew Vesemir had prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighs and begins to slowly explain what had happened in Wyzima. From whence he heard about a witcher who made off with contract money right up to the point with his fight against the striga. He made sure to admit that he, too, almost died to the cursed princess, as if the others needed convincing that Remus had reason to have died to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anyone notices Lambert scooting closer to him and bumping their knees together, they don’t mention it. Geralt’s hand restlessly flexes over and over, because he doesn’t know what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>with himself. He’s here and Remus isn’t, but it’s only because of the autopsy that Geralt was able to identify the correct creature and survive at all. He owed the deceased witcher his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to wait, right?” Leo suddenly says, voice small but still stubbornly demanding to be heard. The others turn to him questioningly, so he wrings his hands together for a moment before speaking again. “For Berengar. We’re not going to burn the funeral pyre without him, right? We </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Wolf witchers glance at one other, contemplating the words. Before any could say anything, Vesemir stands. “Of course,” he agrees, nodding to the youngest with a hint of approval in his eyes. “We’ll wait until Berengar joins us next year. He deserves to be here for it,” he announces, an air to his words that dares the others to challenge him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them seem to want to regardless, even looking strangely relieved at their master’s decision. “Come on, we should all rest now,” he urges them. Like a switch had been flipped, they all slowly get to their feet, giving each other silent glances and nods. Just as they begin heading towards their rooms, a loud ruffling from behind them makes them halt and turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir spreads a large bearskin onto the floor near the fireplace they usually use to cook. Leo beams, catching on immediately and dragging Geralt with him to the rug. The White Wolf is unable to help the smile his lips adorn as he takes a seat. Slowly but surely, all of the rest of them join him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leo sets his head in his lap and grins up at him almost childishly, to which Geralt snorts and shakes his head. Vesemir sits behind Geralt and lets the witcher lean back into him while Eskel and Lambert each sidle to his sides. Geralt feels one of them take a hold of his fidgeting hand, but he can’t tell who it is in their messy tangle of limbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he knows is that he’s home in Kaer Morhen with his wolf witcher pack, and for a while, nothing else matters.</span>
</p>
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